Healing
by a-land-of-myth
Summary: Charlie sneaks out of the Patriot quarantine camp to tell Miles about the virus and fix up Monroe after his whipping in Mexico. But Miles and Connor leave to get the cure and she is left alone with Bass - the result is a much-needed exposure of feelings. Oneshot.


**This is the first fanfic I've posted on this website, so hopefully I did okay. Enjoy and please review.**

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Charlie crept through the quarantine camp, periodically stopping for Patriot patrols to pass. A satchel over her shoulder contained medical supplies for Monroe after whatever had happened in Mexico, and she had imprinted Gene's directions for the Patriots' supply basement, where the cure to the virus could be found, into her brain.

She made it to the fence without hassle. Pressing herself as flat as she could, she cleared the barbed wire fence. Still keeping low, she backed away slowly from the camp, not relaxing until she was well out of eyesight. Then, she picked up her pace, wanting her little mission to go as quickly as possible.

She made it to the shed where they were hiding in good time. Easing the door open, she was met with Miles pointing a gun at her face. When he saw her face, he lowered the weapon. "Charlie?"

She climbed down. "Hey, Miles."

"What are you doing here? How did you get out of camp? Were you followed?"

"Whoa, too many questions." Charlie smiled at her uncle. "I have medical supplies for Monroe and a message from Mom and Grandpa. I just snuck out, Miles. And I made sure no one noticed or followed."

"You said you got stuff for me?" came a new voice.

Charlie turned to face Monroe, noting with interest a new but strangely familiar face. Monroe's son, she guessed. He had the same strong jaw, face and trademark curls. "Yeah. I heard you got yourself all messed up. I'm Charlie," she added in the direction of the new man.

"Connor," he replied.

"You said you have a message?' asked Miles. He didn't miss the way Connor was looking Charlie up and down. He would need to have a word with the kid. How he would do that when Connor was still being so prickly, he had no idea.

Charlie's face darkened. "Yeah. There was something wrong with the virus, how it was behaving or something, so Mom did some tests with a blood sample. This typhus was made in a lab."

Miles and Bass exchanged a glance. "Patriots?" asked the latter. "Why would they risk their own?"

"I don't know, but I don't see who else would do it," said Charlie. "Grandpa says they keep a lot of things hidden in a basement below the old warehouse off Second Street in Willoughby. He thinks the cure might be there."

Miles had already sprung to action. "I'll go check it out. Bass?"

"He's gotta stay," said Charlie, holding up her bag. "I need to treat him."

"I'm fine," said Bass.

Charlie glared. "I didn't steal this stuff for nothing, Monroe."

"Just stay," said Miles. "I guess I'll go alone." This led Bass to shoot a pointed look at Connor.

The young man laughed. "Go screw yourself. With something pointy. I'm not raiding a bunker for some meds that might not even be there."

"This outbreak is serious, kid," said Bass.

"I get it," snapped Connor. "Believe me. Back in Mexico, I saw the bubonic plague sweep through. At least it was a classic, right? I've seen it from the front row, up close and personal, and I am _not_ about to walk back into that."

"Okay, Connor–" tried Bass.

"No," said Connor. "Sorry, but it's not my problem."

Bass looked from Miles to Charlie, then back to Connor. He started walking into the other room. "I need a word with you, alone." Connor made to move to follow his father. "I'm not asking."

Connor glared for a second before finally obliging. Bass shut the door behind them. Charlie raised her eyebrows. "Happy family."

"Yeah," said Miles. "I think this is still a shock for the kid."

"Aren't you glad I was never _that_ much trouble?" Charlie said with a grin.

"No, I seem to remember you being a whole ton of trouble." Miles smiled for a second. "Be careful around Connor. I don't like the way he was looking at you."

Charlie smirked. "Miles, you wouldn't be able to stop me. But sure, don't worry. He's not really my type."

"You should not have a type."

Charlie punched Miles, although she knew he was kidding. He, more than anyone, understood that she wasn't a kid anymore. "I'm twenty-two, not twelve."

Bass and Connor returned a minute later. Bass's face was unreadable, and Connor looked reluctant. He shot a look at his dad before turning to Miles.

"I'll go too."

"You don't have to, kid. I can do it on my own."

"I'll go. Might as well. I could come in handy."

Miles shrugged. "Well, thanks. Let's go, then."

"Miles, I'll probably be gone by the time you get back," said Charlie. "I need to get back to the camp before the Patriots notice I'm gone."

He nodded. "Alright, kid. See you."

Charlie stepped forward for a hug. "Bye, Miles. Be careful."

"You too, Charlie."

Charlie closed the door behind Miles and Connor and turned to Bass. "Okay, let's take a look at you. What happened to you, anyway? Rachel didn't even say."

Bass turned his back and lifted up his shirt and jacket gingerly. "You call her by her first name now?"

Charlie ignored him, eyes widening at the sight of his back. "What the hell happened?"

"Just some trouble in Mexico," he said.

"I can see that," Charlie said tersely. She lifted his shirt up further. The cuts from his whipping covered his entire back. "Go sit down on the bed. Fuck, Monroe. How did you even get yourself like this?"

"Got caught by a cartel." Bass was moving with an unusual stillness, his back ramrod straight. Charlie realised he was in more pain than he let on.

"_How?_ I thought you were a bit better than that."

"I was protecting Connor," he mumbled.

Charlie helped him take his jacket and shirt off, trying to cause as little pain as possible. "Well, I'd hate to see the other guy once you got away."

"It was Connor," admitted Bass.

Charlie wasn't sure she had heard correctly. She stopped what she was doing. "What?"

"Connor did it."

"_He_ did this? And you brought him back with you? Are you crazy?"

"He had to, Charlie. The cartel boss was suspecting his loyalty. And he joined us in the end, so it doesn't matter."

Charlie stared at him incredulously. The one time he chose to be nice… "Damn it, Monroe. _It doesn't matter?_"

"Just have some faith in him, Charlotte."

Charlie scowled. "Because having faith in a guy who tortured his father is _such_ a good idea."

"I did abandon him," said Bass. His obvious anguish made Charlie hesitate.

"That's not your fault. No one told you he existed."

"I should have known."

"You couldn't have." Charlie set Bass's clothes to one side and uncapped the bottle of disinfectant. She dabbed some onto a clean cloth. "This is going to sting."

"Go ahead."

Charlie pressed the rag to the wounds at his shoulders. His face tightened, but he made no sound. She continued, trying to be gentle but quick. She worked her way down methodically, constantly checking him for signs of pain. He tensed up as she reached a larger gash across his lower back, muscles rippling. She put a hand on his shoulder. "Bass," she said soothingly. Then she realised she'd used his first name, and immediately felt uneasy. She'd always called him Monroe.

"I'm fine," he said through gritted teeth, and to her relief did not point out her blunder.

After that, the rest of his back didn't take very long. "That's the worst part over," she told him. She started spreading a salve over the cuts, which would numb the pain and speed up the healing, still cursing herself for calling him Bass. Why had she done that?

Bass had noticed it. Of course he had. It had been Monroe ever since Philadelphia, but when that had slipped out of Charlie's mouth… He could feel her hands on his back now, taking away his pain and doing something else entirely too. He set his jaw. He needed to stop this. Charlie was Miles' niece. And she might be helping him now, but underneath her need for his help against the Patriots, she hated him. The whole Matheson clan hated him. He had to remember that.

Then Charlie started wrapping a bandage around him. Her arms encircled him as she looped it around to the front and back around again. Bass raised his arms as high as he could to avoid making contact with her, but she noticed his grimace of pain as the movement tugged at some of the wounds and she pulled them down. "Damn it, Bass, do you want to make them worse?" she demanded. Again with the _Bass_. Charlie sighed internally. She might as well roll with it now.

He stayed silent. She'd probably just picked it up from Miles. That was it, he tried to believe. She continued to bind the bandage, arms brushing against his side, feeling the tension between them. _It's because there's so much hate between us_, she told herself. The electricity she could feel was just the overwhelming antipathy they had. The racing of her heart was just fear that he would betray her.

"I'm going to leave some spare bandages here," she said, trying to break the tension. She mentally kicked herself for her voice sounding so wobbly. "Try to change them regularly." Then another loop.

It was too much for Bass. He jumped up, away. He had to get away from her. "I'll do it myself, Charlie. Damn it."

She nodded shakily, struggling not to stare at his abdomen. "Okay. Sure." Both of them ignored the fact that for Bass to bandage himself would be a very difficult feat.

She tried to walk back into the main room in the shed. Space. She needed space right now. But she hesitated as she drew level with Bass, and without thinking, his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. Charlie tensed, and he let go immediately. The electricity of his touch lingered and she looked at his face, unable to help herself. There was a mixture of emotions painted on him – longing, resignation, frustration, and something more tender underlying.

Looking back on it later, Charlie was sure that last thing was what compelled her to tiptoe up and kiss him. And when she did, Bass needed no further invitation. His hands reached around her waist, pulling her close. Her own cupped his face, before one snaked back and tangled itself in his hair. Their lips crushed together desperately, passionately, releasing all of their bottled up emotions, until Bass came crashing back down to Earth.

"Charlie," he said.

She immediately knew what he was going to say. She didn't want to listen. Not right now. If she listened, she knew she would regret the whole thing, just when she'd figured out this was what she had wanted for a long time. She pressed her lips to his again.

He tried to push her away. "We can't do this."

Charlie gave up, pulling back. "Why not? We have something, Bass. Didn't you feel it?" He had to have. That – that had not been a normal kiss. And she knew she had to be insistent, because he wouldn't.

He couldn't deny it, but there were so many problems. "I'm twice your age, Charlie!"

"Okay, I know that mattered to some people before the lights went out, but have you been living under a rock? It doesn't matter anymore. It shouldn't matter. If two people–"

Bass didn't want to hear her say what two people were. He hated himself for it, but he was afraid. He was afraid that what Charlie said wouldn't be what he wanted. "What do you think Miles will do if he ever finds out about this, Charlotte? Your mom, your grandpa?"

"They don't have to find out."

"That's not the point." Bass ran a hand over his face. "You need to go back before you're missed."

"No, we need to talk now."

"Get out, Charlotte."

She stood straight and stared at him for a few seconds, commanding herself not to show any of the hurt she felt. She knew he didn't mean it; knew instinctively from some place in her heart, but it still wasn't easy to hear. "You call me Charlotte when you want to distance yourself, don't you?" she said, pleased when her voice came out without a single waver.

Bass slumped against the wall. One person should not be able to read him like that. "This didn't mean anything. It was a brief slip of judgement. Let it go."

Charlie laughed humourlessly. It reminded her of the time in the old swimming pool. Had she felt this way then, she wondered, back then when it was so easy to despise him, and simply blocked it out? How long had she been missing this feeling, just because she couldn't see past his deeds? "I don't believe you. Bass, don't shut me out."

"You hate me," he reminded her. "I killed your dad, I killed Danny. I took your mother away from you for years. I ruined your life."

"Seriously? _Now_ you're taking all the blame? Your soldiers made the killing shots, Bass, not you, you had no idea that was going to happen, and you know it. I seem to remember you insisting that you hadn't meant for my dad to die. You can't make me go back to hating you, okay? I won't. I can't."

"You think that's it? You have no idea what I've done."

"Oh, I have an idea, believe me. I had a life before you found my family, Bass, I lived in your militia for most of my life. I know what you did. But you know what? I'm sure you have no idea of some of the things I've done and I know you wouldn't care. I don't care about yours anymore."

"You kill when you have to, Charlie! I've killed completely innocent people."

"I know that. I forgave that when they tried to execute you. Maybe even before. I don't know why and, yeah, I know I shouldn't have, but I did and it's way too late to pull that card." Charlie stepped closer to him. "Bass. Look me in the eye and tell me you don't want this; you don't want me. If you can do that, I'll leave you alone."

His blue eyes met hers. "Charlie," he whispered. "I don't – I don't…" He trailed off, dropping his gaze. She couldn't help the smile that crossed her face. Gently, she put a hand to his cheek. She ran her thumb over his lips and he looked up to her face again. This time, when she tried to kiss him he let her. Without realising it, at some point he started to kiss her back.

"I'm sorry, Charlie," said Bass, touching his forehead to hers.

"I already said I forgave you–"

"Not about that. I'm sorry you feel this way for me. You should've gotten a happy ending with a nice guy - one that your mom and Miles and Gene could actually like."

"I don't want any other guy, Bass. I want you," Charlie said firmly.

"All I've ever done is hurt you."

Charlie touched his cheek. "Yeah, you have hurt me a lot. But you're also one of the few people who came back to me, you know that? In the high school – I thought you'd gone. But you came back and they would've killed me if you hadn't. And the important thing is that you did come back. Besides," she added, brushing her lips against his, "I am definitely not feeling hurt right now."

"Thank you, Charlie," whispered Bass. It was a thank you for forgiving him and accepting him and making him feel like he was wanted. It was a thank you for Charlie just being Charlie. He caught his lips with hers again. Their kiss was hungry and driven, but now there was understanding in it. There was peace.

"I really do need to leave soon," Charlie said reluctantly after God knows how long. She and Bass had both completely lost track of time. She was just glad they hadn't gone any further. She wouldn't have been able to bring herself to leave at all if they had. "I'll finish up your bandages first."

They sat back down and Charlie wrapped the bandage again, which had become a complete mess sometime in the last several minutes. Now, though, she scooted closer to Bass, not afraid to make contact with him. There was something different between them, an element of comfort. Bass wondered if maybe he should have finished the bandages himself after all – it was taking all of his willpower not to turn around and start back where they had left off.

Charlie was done in about ten minutes. She wrapped her arms around Bass's waist and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. "I have to go."

Bass took a second to compose his thoughts. "Yeah, go. You should."

She bit her lip, unsure of what to say. "Don't overthink this once I'm gone. I don't want to have to convince you again."

Bass squeezed her hands quickly. "I won't." And he meant it. There was no going back for him now. He'd known from the start there'd be no going back – it was why he'd been so reluctant. Whenever he fell for anyone, he fell hard.

"Bye."

"Bye, Charlie."

She left, and she knew she was screwed, because when she did she felt an uneasy hollowness in her chest, like they'd described in the boring romance novels she read as a kid. But she could put up with that feeling, because how Bass made her feel was better. It was worth it.

Bass waited a few minutes after Charlie left before gathering his things and quietly leaving the shed and following her, making sure she didn't know he was there. She would be pissed that he was, because she could damn well take care of herself. Hell, Bass knew she could. He knew she could take care of herself and of him and Miles and Rachel and the entire town of Willoughby if she had to. But, like when he had loitered outside the bar in North Texas and gone back for her at the high school and to be quite honest everything he'd done for her since the swimming pool, he had to know for certain that she was okay.


End file.
